Defying Destinies
by MistyNocturne
Summary: "There is only power, and those too weak to seek it." "Power without love will be your downfall, Tom." Merlin goes to Hogwarts and ends up in the same year as a teenage Voldemort. And he thought Arthur was an insufferable prat... Tom Riddle is the devil incarnate, and takes a rather obsessive interest in our favourite warlock. Oh dear. Can he save the bedamned soul? WW2. DeathHarry


Disclaimer: I don't in any way own Merlin or Harry Potter. BBC and JKR do. I just like imagining 'what-if' scenarios with the characters they so masterfully crafted. This disclaimer should count for the rest of the story.

**A/N: Hello, there... I don't think of myself as such an impressive writer, so feel free to point out writing errors I make. Just try to be a bit professional about it, please - I have a small ego... (no flames!)**

**It's been done before with either Harry, Hermione or some OC. But I figured I'd try my luck by substituting Merlin into the equation instead, since no one's actually attempted it yet. So, yeah. It's just an experiment.**

**Post 5x13. Spoilers for whole Merlin series. WWII era for HP Universe.**

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Chapter 1

1st September 1943, The Great Lake, Hogwarts.

Something stirred deep within Merlin.

Was it sadness? Anger? Regret? Despair?

Hope?

He could not tell. All that heartbreak over the millenia - it did not serve to aid the situation any better. No, as time went by, it only made every bit of his soul slowly die away, leaving him hollow in the chest. Rather like a winter that would never turn to spring.

And that was why he was so fixated on the scene before him. For he could not comprehend the strange emotion that lit up the bleak and gray regions of his heart.

The lake water glittered an intense amber as the dying sun hung low on the horizon. A dozen boats made their departure from the opposite bank, bringing forth a batch of fresh souls to the Isle of Avalon, or better known today as - Hogwarts.

Ah. Now he knew why he felt the way he was.

It was symbolic. The sight presented to him was an ill reminder of his makeshift funerals for all the people he held dearest. For Freya, secretly for his Father, for Lancelot, for Elyan, for Gwaine. Eventually - for Percival, for Leon.

For his mother.

For Gaius.

For Gwen.

For Morgana, as he hadn't the heart to leave her body lying in the wilderness, to be feasted on by the wolves and flies, just she had threatened to do with Arthur. He did it for the sake of the woman he loved. The kind, noble and fierce woman she had once been before the corruption - before he had been foolish enough to betray her trust and genuine friendship. And finally-

-for Arthur.

"_Arthur._ In sebbe gerrest_," he whispered, before the wooden boat silently set off across the water. _

It was strange though, to see the wooden dinghies drifting in his direction instead of away from him. He was so used to seeing them vanish in the distance as small spots on the horizon.

Was he truly condemned to wait forever for man who would never return?

He had no clue what to think, let alone do anything about it, and it had suddenly occurred to him that the Gates of Avalon might open for him if he ventured deep enough into the lake. He had heard theories about it before, but never actually tried it out for himself. Never dared to, due to the danger of... who knew what? He was aware that The Sidhe did it regularly, but they were entirely different from mortal spirits. The fate of those who crossed the boundary before their time was uncertain.

_But he _wasn't _a mortal spirit now, was he?_

Now, with morbid curiosity, he austerely contemplated what would happen if he _did_ step through the boundary for a few seconds. Would he be engulfed by a ball of bright light that would take him to Avalon, or would the water just close over his head and cut off his air supply for good?

In his irrational state of mind, he felt that it was worth a try to experiment his idea - anything to end this pointless existence. He barely even noticed the children being led up to the castle after docking. Merlin took several steps forward, each step bringing him deeper into the lake - when a sharp cry of pure incredulity brought him back to cold, solid reality.

"_Wait! What are you doing?!"_

.~.

Tom Riddle was delegated the duty of making sure the docks and lakeshore were cleared of students before the Welcoming Feast commenced. He rushed down the stairs leading to the piers and Great Lake, only to encounter Dumbledore, who led the group of first-years up to the castle. His eyes raked over the little novices - he stifled a smirk - _they were staring curiously at him_ \- before landing them on the mentor.

"Good evening, Professor," he said respectfully, however ingenuine it was, while his eyes carefully concealed his long-term dislike for the Transfigurations teacher. It was for show, to create the perfect role-model persona in the eyes of these juveniles.

"Ahh, a fine evening to you too, my boy," replied Dumbledore, carefreely. The old coot faced the first-years again. "Dear children, this is Tom. He is one of the few prefects who will be overseeing you once you have been sorted into your respective houses. As I have mentioned earlier, if you were to commit any uncalled for acts on the school grounds, he would have the authority to deduct points from your houses too."

Tom flashed a charming grin at the unsorted students. "Welcome to Hogwarts, firsties. I hope you'll find your time here enjoyable and fruitful." Well, he _had_ to make a good first impression, no matter how much it bored him to.

A small rumble sounded.

All eyes turned to a short boy whose chubby cheeks went red. Said boy looked downwards in mortification.

Tom's smile softened at its edges."Good news - food upstairs will be superb, and you won't have to worry about it running out." He glanced back and nodded at Dumbledore. "I suppose I'll take my leave now, Professor."

The auburn-haired man merely raised a brow at him.

He continued his trek down the steps and reached his destination, bypassing the rocky crags and cliffs. There was no one to be seen lingering along the shores at his first scan; he idly wondered what the purpose of this whole duty station was when it was evident that all the new students would have to follow the Deputy Headmaster up to the Great Hall. Old students, on the other hand, would be entering Hogwarts from the Hogsmeade-side entrance and barred access to the lake until the next day.

He sighed lightly. At least it counted as some peaceful solitude for a short interval. The sort of idiocy and naïveté he had to tolerate in his own house was repulsive. From people who didn't know their place to groveling bootlickers. The teachers themselves were very much enraptured by his being 'such a _perfect_ pupil'. It was pathetic really. All of them-

_-No. _All but _one_ couldn't see through his façade. _Albus Dumbledore,_ he thought grimly. He would have to do something about that soon.

The evening breeze was a cool kiss against his cheeks. He paced slowly along the skirts of the water, when he suddenly caught sight of a dark silhouette erect further down the cove. _A teacher, stranger or student? _he mentally questioned himself.

As he stealthily moved closer to the figure, he noted that it was rather tall man, as tall as himself even. His legs, however, were curiously buried knee-height in the water. The ebony robes framing his angular physique did not shed light on his identity. His stance was still as death against the picturesque background, and for a split moment, Tom felt as if he was staring at a painting.

An _immortal _painting.

How the term 'immortal' came to mind, he didn't know. It just did, as though the adjective had been christened to the (man?) by the Gods. _If there were any_, he thought, skeptically. _They never made their presence known in _his _life. _

Tom felt his brows knit together as he noticed the stranger take slow, deliberate steps further into the lake. Would he be interrupting something important if he just called out to the person? He couldn't help but scoff at the idea of someone wanting to go swimming on this chilly autumn evening. Fully-dressed in robes, on top of that. Really. _Who in their right minds would? _

At that line of thought, a chill made its way down his spine. _No... That fellow wasn't... was he..._

_"Who in their _right _minds would?" _he whispered to himself, sudden horror dawning within.

_Suicide._

Why was he even concerned?

Tom Marvolo Riddle was an individual of cold, calculating, logic. He would calmly appraise situations, come to an analytical conclusion, and then only react accordingly. All three steps were, of course, done in a speed equivalent to slightly slower than lightning. In normal occasions, he wouldn't have given a damn about murder transpiring right before his eyes (if it brought no consequences to him), let alone some random person feeling that a 'dip' in a frigid lake would do him any good. _A heart of ice_, he was once told to have had. _Selfish, cruel, bastard,_ others had chosen to say. Once again, he couldn't have cared less for their paltry opinions.

Yes, he was a prefect. All matters unusual or out of order should be sorted out without hesitation by someone like him. It shouldn't matter if it were a teacher, stranger or student. However, he would have gladly walked away and pretended he hadn't witnessed a thing, and everyone would have bought his story without a bat of an eye. The thought of coming to such a _brash_ conclusion like 'suicide' was mortifying to his own standards, but an uncharacteristic impulse to follow said intuition held him rooted in place.

It was _absurd,_ but – _he felt the need to _save _this person_, no matter how wrong his judgment could be about the scenario. So before he could even curb his tongue, he yelled out sharply.

"_Wait! What are you doing?!"_

Tom involuntarily stiffened when the stranger twisted his neck so abruptly to face him.

_Salazar, it was a bloody _student. A new, unsorted one by the looks of the Hogwarts Crest emblazoned on the chest of the soaked ebony robes. The student also had a bizarre red scarf wrapped around his neck - a neckerchief of sorts. But what really captured his attention was the boy's visage, which he hadn't been able to see before this. It was a pallid, motionless mask, gaunt as a grave, and his eyes were clouded over with a dead-like melancholy much like a bright cerulean sky overcast by a stormy haze. With the waning sunlight at his back, shadows painted the faint hollows beneath those eyes and sharp cheekbones, making him look much older and more mature than he should be for a student of his age (he had to at _least_ be a sixth year). The very same shadows were present in his eyes, somewhat complimenting his black hair and attire, and displayed a deep contrast against his pale skin.

Those shadowy orbs though... They deeply unsettled him. They were blind and unseeing when they looked straight at him, and beyond at whatever was behind him. It was an awkward and uncomfortable moment for Tom as the boy seemed perfectly satisfied just to stare on blankly without acknowledging his presence.

And Tom certainly didn't take kindly towards people who saw and dismissed him as easily as _this_ person did.

Tom cleared his throat and finally spoke again, neutrally. "I apologize if I interrupted anything _important-_" he enunciated the word with some semblance of cynicism, "-but the Welcoming Feast is about to begin, and I think we should make a move." The other boy blinked suddenly and whatever somber mist that was in his eyes vanished and was replaced by a look of surprise and immediate self-deprecation.

The boy gave a wry smile that seemed to display more pain than actual joy. "Sorry," he said, quite meekly, as his hand shot up behind to hold his neck in what would've been embarassment, if Tom hadn't spotted the well-disguised calculating gaze behind those midnight-blue eyes. _Curious._ It would seem the boy was carefully planning how to explain his strange position.

"Well?" Tom arched a brow and skimmed the new student from head to - _chest._ "It would be prudent for you to step out of the lake now though. Any longer and I fear you may catch a dreadful cold."

The boy promptly looked down at his body buried in water before looking back at Tom with that same half-attempted grin. "Right... _Really_ wouldn't want to miss the Sorting Ceremony and warm food upstairs." He slowly stepped out of the lake and sighed as he stopped in front of him, eyeing his drenched robes uneasily.

Tom had half a mind to let the boy walk all the way up to the Great Hall as wet as he was. It probably would have been an amusing sight to see him shiver and drip along. However, he was still quick to offer assistance. Common courtesy - something he just had to display while in his model-student persona. "Why don't I dry your robes for you?"

"Huh? Oh, alright then," the boy answered, awkwardly.

Tom debated using wandless magic, considering the extra speed it would provide him instead of whipping out his wand. After all, the Hot-Air Charm was a pathetically simple spell for him to cast, but he decided it just wouldn't do to show a new, unknown individual one of his strengths just yet. Therefore, with a resigned sigh, he pulled out his wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of its tip; he pointed this at the boy's robes, which began to steam as they dried out.

The boy gave him yet another smile, but this time one which spoke genuine gratitude. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. Now, it's time we make haste." Tom started off towards the castle, signaling the boy to follow his lead. The boy ran up next to him, matching his swift gait.

Tom turned his head to face him, still walking. "So you're new," he commented. "What's your name?

He noted the faraway look which possessed the other boy's eyes before he whispered, "I am _Destiny_."

Tom's gaze became twice as piercing at that. _How interesting._ Could he possibly mean 'Destiny' as an entity which held control over predetermined events and futures, or was the boy just a plain _loony_ as he was beginning to suspect? "I beg your pardon?" He gave a sharp grin. Oh, he'd play along with this. "I must admit that's a rather _feminine_ moniker."

'Destiny' blinked stupidly for a long moment before tipping his head back to laugh. "No, no, no... That was a joke. I'm... _Ambrosius_. Morgan Ambrosius."

And Ambrosius tripped.

Tripped over flat ground - and fell face first on the stone floor of the school.

Tom was torn between exasperation and amusement at this point. Just how lacking in balance was this fellow to be able to trip over _level ground_?

Had this boy no sense of self-preservation? First, the failed-attempt of suicide. Now, this.

What a bumbling fool. What an... _idiot._

It made him doubt if he was truly ushering the bereft, mature-looking person he previously saw at the lake.

"Sorry 'bout that." The meek tone was back.

Tom felt as though he had been slapped.

_Of course_. The meekness - it cropped up each time as an evasion of a careless slip. How _stupid_ of him to have missed it.

_Distraction_. It addles the mind of the target and forces it to focus on the larger spectacle, all the while completely derailing its previous line of thought. Despite the big impression the explosion gives, it turns out to be less significant than the tiny spark which created it. For where would an explosion come from if not from the spark itself?

In this case the explosion was the fall, and the spark was the topic this boy was actively avoiding. Something that spurred him into acting the fool.

Interesting the fellow had tried that on him. It nearly worked.

Nearly.

He kept his face straight, cleverly hiding his sense of triumph. Internally, he was chuckling in dark amusement. _Does this boy think he can fool the great Tom Riddle?_

_There is no escape, boy. I will not forget this._

"If you don't mind me asking, what _were _you doing back there at the Great Lake?" Tom asked, lightly, while extending his hand over Ambrosius' prostrate figure to help him up.

_The serpent coils around the rabbit._

The shadows that once filled Ambrosius' eyes returned at the query. He raised an eyebrow and directed a mocking chuckle at himself, while giving a dismissive shake of the head. "I was experimenting something out there - and it involved a little swim in the icy water."

_The rabbit becomes uneasy. Very uneasy._

"And what exactly _were_ you experimenting?"

_The serpent begins to crush the rabbit slowly._

There was short silence but Ambrosius' lips suddenly twitched and his eyes sparkled. He gave Tom a rather mirthful grin that accentuated his prominent cheekbones. "I intended to pay a visit to the people of the lake."

Denial? How... _quaint._

Tom deliberated the use of _legilimency_ to see just how far off this person's lie was, but he decided it was still a bit too early for such measures on this new player in a game which he was unknowingly joining.

_The rabbit does not strive to pry apart the coils. Instead, it laughs merrily as death slowly embraces it._

"You wanted to visit the _mermaids_?" laughed Tom. Whatever the truth behind Ambrosius' reckless actions back there, it brought about those shadows around him. It could go either way, make him more vulnerable, or more on his guard. Tom would commit that to memory for future use.

Ambrosius cast a sidelong glance at him. "You know, that wouldn't be too far off..." he murmured.

_The rabbit proves to be is a curious little thing. The serpent will reserve the kill for another day._

Tom would call off the sensitive questions for now - if only to save more of the fun for later. He changed the subject to something more general. "What year will you be in?"

"Sixth, if I'm not mistaken."

This time, Tom raised both of his brows. _Even better. _They were both in the same year. He mentioned as much, and added on, "Any idea which of the four houses you'll get into?"

Ambrosius merely shrugged and shook his head again, gestures which seemed second-nature to him. "Nope. None at all. I have no preference really. They all seem pretty alright."

Tom felt very inclined to reply to that, as he was surprised about the boy not having any preconceptions of any of the houses, but realized that they had already arrived at the Great Hall.

"Well, here we are," Ambrosius declared, rather cheerfully. "You have my thanks again for managing to bring me here." He arched a brow him. "And... I never did get your name, Sir Prefect."

Ah. His name. It may, in his opinion, have been the greatest bane of his life, but he would give it to this person anyway.

"I am Tom Marvolo Riddle."

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**A/N: And that's about it for now! Congratz for managing to reach this point. That gives me a bit of hope that what I wrote wasn't** **_too_**** crappy. Reviews will be nice. Good luck to people who have exams soon...**


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